Sulsa Putrefuck Vomitoma – Sulsa Putrefuck Vomitoma (2018)
Genre: Rock / Style: Goregrind
Alright, buckle up, because this album is a straight-up auditory bloodbath. Released in 2018 by Whisky Warfare Records outta Germany, Sulsa Putrefuck Vomitoma isn’t just an album—it’s a gut-punch to your eardrums. With its grotesque tracklist and relentless goregrind fury, it’s not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. This thing rips so hard, you’ll feel like you’ve been dragged through a slaughterhouse backwards.
First off, let’s talk about “Staphylococcus Epidermis.” Yeah, that’s right—the bacteria named after some nasty skin infection kicks things off with basslines from Ds Shin that hit harder than a shovel to the skull. The guitar work by Yuying on this one? Absolutely filthy. It’s got these grinding riffs that sound like they were recorded inside a meat grinder. You can practically smell the rot as Jen 187’s vocals rip into your brain like rusty nails. If there’s one track that sticks with me, it’s this—because holy hell, it sets the tone for what’s coming next. No mercy here. None.
Then there’s “Flight Of The Blowfly,” which closes the album with Jen 187 handling both drum programming and vocals. This track is pure chaos wrapped in buzzing madness. Imagine a swarm of flies feasting on roadkill while someone beats the crap out of a trash can behind them. That’s this song. Jen’s shrieks are unhinged, almost animalistic, and the programmed drums clatter around like broken bones in a blender. It’s disgusting, suffocating, and somehow still catchy as fuck. I found myself humming bits of it later—not even kidding—and then immediately questioning my life choices.
The rest of the tracks aren’t slouches either. From “Submerged In Human Waste” to “Carbonized Bones,” every second feels like a descent deeper into filth and despair. Adrian’s drumming on tracks five to nine brings the thunder, while Yuying’s guitars carve jagged wounds into each composition. And don’t get me started on the lyrical themes—this ain’t love songs, folks. We’re talking rotting flesh, bodily fluids, and post-mortem horrors galore. It’s gross, but goddamn if it doesn’t slap.
What makes this album unforgettable isn’t just how brutal it is—it’s the way it refuses to let you go. Even when it’s over, you’re left sitting there, covered in metaphorical slime, wondering what the actual hell just happened. But weirdly enough, you kinda want more. Like, maybe too much more.
Final thought? Listening to this album feels like getting punched repeatedly in the face—but you kinda enjoy it. Or maybe you hate it, but either way, it leaves a mark. Honestly, I think the band might secretly be geniuses. Fucked-up geniuses, sure, but geniuses nonetheless. Now excuse me while I go disinfect my ears… or maybe queue it up again. Who knows?
